Too Late
by Jade Nolan
Summary: Alec didn't know why he tried to call his ex-wife... but being near a true breaking point made him desperate for some sense of humanity


**A/N: **_Disclaimer - all original characters belong to ITV, no matter how much I want Alec Hardy for myself_

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_bzzt bzzt…bzzt bzzt…bzzt bzzt…_ He listened to the phone ring and felt his heart rate start to inch up as he waited for it to be answered. He had paused with his finger over the numbers for about five minutes before he had been able to finally push them, but the act hadn't relieved his anxiety over his impulsive decision.

No one had answered yet…. he could still hang up….

"_Hello," _a familiar voice answered.

Shit. His chest tightened….why the hell had he done this…he should just put the receiver down and walk away…walk away and no one would know…the only fallout would be his own embarrassment and utter patheticness.

But for some reason he remained frozen in place.

_"Hello?"_ the voice repeated.

He just stood there….his blood ringing in his ears as his heart pounded and the world wobbled….

"Hello," he heard himself say in a cracked voice.

Fuck…. what the hell had he done now…

"Alec?" the voice asked, "Is that you?"

A thunderclap of dread and nerves and near-panic echoed through his chest. He should slam the phone down…. mumble something about being a wrong number and slam it down… after all this was exactly why he'd called from a pay phone - to give himself this out…. god he was pathetic and useless….

Maybe it was an inability to cope with another act to feel guilty about, but he didn't hang up. "Yeah," he managed to answer.

There was a heavy sigh on the other end. _"Whaddya want?"_ the voice said, instantly becoming short and annoyed.

Alec opened and closed his mouth a couple times before replying. "I don't know. It's just…I wanted to talk to you…there's this case and…"

_"Oh, so __**now**__ you have time to call when you're on a case, do you?_"

Annoyance was turning into irritating anger, and Alec tried to interrupt. But she plowed on and he remained silent.

_"What, is it some tiny little case that allows you the oh so great privilege to do anything else for two minutes? To grace other people with a moment of your time?"_

"No," he started, "I just…"

But she interrupted him, "_No? Oh, that's good. Just give a ring when you have __**nothing**__ to do then?"_

Now he felt anger trickle through him and displace the near-panic and anxiety. "Rachel, I'm on the Broadchurch case," he blurted out.

There was silence on the other end.

He took a deep breath to calm his racing emotions. He closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against the glass of the phone booth. "I just wanted…needed…to talk to you."

There was continued silence.

"Please, Rachel," he begged, "I can't…" his voice caught in his throat. The gaping hole of aloneness that filled him, pulsed with an ache that he would give almost anything to end.

_"So __**now**__ you think you can call, like this, after everything? It's too goddamn late,"_ her voice said, inflection flat and angry, _"Fuck off, Alec."_

There was a click, and the line went dead.

He had no idea how long he stood there, oblivious to everything but the pain that ripped through him. He had no words for it, and it grew until he could barely think. With a yell he smashed his fist into the side of the phonebox, distantly registering the pain that rippled up his arm.

He made his way back to the hotel. He didn't turn on any lights as he entered his room, locking the door behind him. He slid down it to the floor, numb, and trying to make sense of the wreckage his life had become.

Why…? he wondered to himself. He thought of his daughter who he doubted he'd ever have a relationship with again. Why….? he wondered again. What had he done to be dealt these cards…? He leaned his forehead on his knees and felt tears start his eyes. He honestly wasn't sure how much more he could take. His shoulders shook as he cried silently.

The daylight appeared through his window, and Alec just stared, still sitting on the floor against the door. He had nothing left. Slowly he stood up and unbuttoned his shirt, dropping it on the bed and putting on a new one. He did up his tie in a messy knot, fingers moving on their own out of years of habit. He grabbed his jacket off the back of a chair and headed out.

He had a case to solve, and when Miller greeted him good morning and asked him how he was, he responded with his usual non-committal grunt. And also per usual she gave him a look that said she didn't really believe that he was fine.

But they had a case to solve.


End file.
